“It’s you,” the dark wielder says over the growing noise of the storm. “The one who commands the sky.” His eyes widen in eerie excitement. “Oh, how I’ll be rewarded when I return with you.” “And here I was thinking I was the only Sorrengail with a reputation beyond the border.” Mira takes a fighting stance, keeping only inches between us. “By your Sage?” I ask him, tracking his movements as rain falls in sheets. Shit, I can’t chance throwing my dagger. If I miss, I’m defenseless, and it’s not just me on this field. “I need daggers.” “Which Sage? I promise, you’ll wish—” he starts, raising his
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